Daddy's Girl
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: She smiles at you as if to say, "Hello". And right there, you know that little moment you share with her will be the foundation of a life-long bond. DL. Oneshot.


**A/N: This was originally going to be a chapter story, but it's just a oneshot because I don't want to delete this. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. That's the whole point of fanfiction.**

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**Daddy's Girl**

You're tired. Your eyes have bags under them, the sign of true sleeplessness, and you're suffering from caffeine depletion. You're not addicted, it's just the caffeine that helps since your job is so demanding. Well, trying to bring entertainment to everyone from the center of Los Angeles can be tired but rewarding. It's the family business, so you can't complain…

Much.

You don't know the thoughts that run through your head, because they're too jumbled. You've done this before, or you wouldn't have your five-year-old son, who happens to be with the in laws. It's still scary, but your wife swears loudly because of the contractions. She's prone to do that, as the doctor sends you a quizzical look. You only shrug.

You feel mixed emotions, as your wife squeezes your hand. It's cutting off blood circulation, and it feels like forever. Forever is two is actually thirty-five hours since her water broke. You only remember driving frantically, so that you avoid a speeding ticket.

"Okay, Mrs. Reese, we're going to need you to give us one more push…"

"This kid is kicking me in between contractions!" she yells, as you dab the sweat off her brow, and her hair is a complete messy bun, with a few wisps falling in her tired brown eyes. She sounds like she's going to cry, and it takes a lot of pain for that to actually happen.

You know she's tough. That knowledge is retained from your teenage days, the days where you are young and immature and the woman you married is your sworn enemy. There's an animosity so thick, but love just happens to be thicker.

"I can't do it. I give up…"

You grab her hand as a sign of assurance. She can do this, but in the back of your mind you thank God, you aren't female.

You give your wife a tired smile, and kiss her forehead, "Yes, you can. You can do this. I love you."

It feels like forever, since you actually say that, and the next sound that you hear is a loud, little cry. You feel like crying yourself, when you cut the umbilical cord with these weird scissors.

Judging by how loud your newborn daughter's first breath is, you know that she already has a mix of both of her parents.

And honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

--

"She's beautiful…"

And that's the only thing you can say, as there's a bundle of pink in your arms. She's adapted a pinkish hue, and her crying stops. You're never like this, but it's only been five years since the first time. It gets you every time. Her little hair is brown, and has starting going curly. The little newborn girl opens her eyes, and blinks, and her eyes are hazel.

Yours.

"You know, she's going to be a complete daddy's girl," your wife says, a playful smile tugging at her lips and tries to sit up to the best of her ability. The epidural's starting to wear, and she has some feeling of her legs. And then your wife exhales slowly. "So, I'm guessing we name our daughter, Natalie."

You raise an eyebrow, gently rocking your daughter to sleep.

"But, I don't know, babe. She looks like a Brittany to me…" you reply. "Remember that stupid questionnaire the school made us take. One question said, if you were to have a child, what name would pop into your head, right?"

"Right, and that's why we named our son, Evan Daniel…" she answers, and then eyes you curiously. "That's why I put down. What did you put down?"

"I put down Brittany, because she does looks like one, but we can compromise…"

"How?" your wife questions, sleepily rubbing her eyes sleepily. Then she smirks playfully, and kisses your cheek. "You haven't changed a bit, so if I agree to have our daughter named Brittany, will you let it go?"

You laugh quietly, because you still have that relentless drive in you.

She knows you all too well, and that's why she's your other half.

"Yes…"

"Okay, then Brittany Natalie Reese it is, then…"

You know you're right – about most things anyway, and as she sleeps with her teeny fingers wrapped around your thumb, you can agree on one thing with your wife.

Brittany's the most beautiful baby ever.

You handle the sleeping bundle of pink over to your wife, and she gives you a small smile, and laughs at you, while slightly chewing on her bottom lip.

"Okay, what?" you want to know, as you raise an eyebrow. A smirk plays up on her lips.

"I'm the one who just gave birth, and you look like _you_ did that instead…" she says, as a curl falls in her eyes. She rocks Brittany slightly so that she's not beginning to cry again, but you know she will. Only hours old, and you know that she's a little Princess in her own right.

Well, she's your little Princess anyway.

You stroke the back of your wife's hand, and kiss her cheek.

"Well, that's why I'll be getting Husband of the Year award," you tell her, and plant a small kiss on her daughter's head…

--

Both of your careers are demanding. She's a lawyer, and you're the film industry. Now, you're a father of two – as of a month ago. Your son, Evan, will absolutely protect his baby sister, and you're surprised he's not the jealous type. Hey, it throws you for a loop too, but you can't really complain. He's five, and in kindergarten, and the stories make you absolutely wonder sometimes.

"_So, are you excited about Brittany coming, buddy?" you question, ruffling the hair he inherits from his mother. Your wife is only six months pregnant. You haven't decided on a name, but the name Brittany just fits. _

"_Yeah, but is mommy gonna be big forever?" he questions. He's really learned how to write his full name. Well, at least now it's legible. "Because now I want to know if mommy swallowed a watermelon seed and it grew in her belly. But then, does that mean my sister came from a watermelon, Daddy?"_

_You laugh, and make a mental note that after Dana comes back from shopping with Lola, Quinn, and Zoey, you're telling her this. _

_Then there's the nursery you've been procrastinating on. It seems the best games come on when you're ready to buckle down. That's not your fault, necessarily. _

_His eyes are curious, "So, do all babies come from watermelons?"_

"_No, kiddo…" you reply, as you're doing dome father-son bonding. By bonding, you mean, channel surfing. It's Saturday, there's got to be something good on. You say this matter-of-factly, because you don't want to give him the talk, at just five. "Evan, babies come from the stork. I don't know how they do it…"_

_You really don't, and you pray he believes you. _

"…_but those storks are smart animals. They knew mommy and I wanted a baby, and they wanted you wanted to be a big brother, so there…"_

"_Daddy! That doesn't mean mommy has to be really big!" he whines. "So how does my sister go into mommy's belly?"_

_This kid is too curious for his own good. _

_At any time, he would encourage curiosity, but come on… _

"_Magic, son…"_

"_What kinda magic?"_

"_The only types of magic storks know how to do, obviously," you tell him, matter-of-factly, and he shrugs, not questioning it. _

"_Oh, okay Daddy…"_

A crying has brought you out of your flashback, as you go upstairs. Dana's over at Lola's and Evan's at school. Your mother stops by a couple times to help, and you're grateful for that.

There's a room of soft pinks, and the touch of red was your idea, so this is Brittany's nursery. You walk in, going over to the crib where her cries practically scream, _I demand attention and you will give it to me now!_

"Okay, okay, Princess, Daddy's here," you tell her, softly, as her crying seems to quiet down. "You're just a little diva, aren't you?"

Brittany stops, looks at you. Sometimes, her eyes are brown, and sometimes they're hazel, but you can't tell. They are hazel when she's first born, so they'll probably be hazel.

She blinks, once and then twice. The corners of her mouth twitch into a smile, as she grips your finger like it's her lifeline.

She smiles at you as if to say, "Hello, Daddy…"

And right there you know that little moment you share with her, will be the foundation of a life long bond...

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**A/N: Okay. There. It's finito. **

**-Erika**


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